


i, ii, iii, iv, v

by riddled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddled/pseuds/riddled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Hogwarts in decline</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the air is sour, pregnant,

spring is in a lull, they say its march

pomona sprout kills the flowers with dry dirt slowly, slowly

they’ve been singing to the heavens, says hannah abbot

professor shakes off the children’s theories,

“the shrieking upset the devil’s snare,” she says

they’re getting worse, hermione says, they’re dying she notices

harry stays away from the greenhouse, he cannot take the plaintive noise

he doesn’t like the wispy words or the weeping

hermione is beside herself, flowers cannot sing, cannot shriek, cannot cry

it’s the air getting to me, she thinks

(its still and heavy)

a 2 minute whoosh of air is not sweet enough

an hour of rain is not sweet enough

birds ring their voices in cacophonies, (there are no songs or trills) loud, loud panic issue from their frail necks,

children don’t sit under the beech tree, nothing sits there

(there is only humming)

*

the children like to sit in the dungeons,

“the snake pit” a yellow robed boy snickers

severus’s cloak no longer billows, there’s not enough air to gather his robes

he grudgingly lets lions and badgers sit in his lair, he bows only to the Headmaster

the black lake is crowded with heads

the giant squid is still, like the whomping willow, like severus’s cloak, like harry’s hair

(still)

treacle tart is not sweet enough

dobby’s reverence is not sweet enough

ron weasley’s laugh is not sweet enough

draco pushes harry away severely, when they leave the dark

silver and black they are a haze they aren’t apart they are

one.

harry tentatively swirls shapes into draco’s palm, he unravels,

scars death kisses scared kisses red scars black marks kisses they fade they blend they are

not alone in that haze,

he spills into harry

as they do, under the cloak, under the beech tree,

there is nothing there only humming


	2. there is nothing there only humming

only wailing

only weeping

only shrieking

only singing

its what luna hears, the singing 

do you hear the flowers, luna asks and asks and asks 

cho doesn’t nod, she only braids luna’s bone white hair 

she bristles, tenses, worries, about luna, about this girl that steals her

breath and laughter and affection 

 yes i hear them, she says to her friend, her more than friend 

cho, she gathers flowers for her luna, 

and luna folds them into the dead dirt, she dips her thin thin bird hands, 

into the earth and leaves the flowers there, to strangle, to bleed

do you hear them, she asks cho

cho doesn’t nod, she doesn’t even speak

her fingers whisper along luna’s neck, they tug on her ears, 

“they never cease their singing my love,” she says with a sad sweet smile

they are tireless, she says to herself and to luna,

(like us)

black skeletal creatures dapple the grounds like smudges, like soot 

luna likes to feed the things, likes to coo and tip blood and gore

into their smooth mouths

cho only looks and wrinkles her nose 

(her knuckles are whiter than luna’s hair ) 

                        * 

stolen time is not sweet enough 

lengthy nights are not sweet enough

swells of laughter are not sweet enough

all the children dip into the black lake, they like the blooms of color

under their feet,

the moon is always in the sky

the merpeople are always crooning

a few are pulled under by hungry hands, the heads look away

the Heads look away,

dumbledore turns their necks so

there is no dissent (only humming)

the portraits and walls are in tandem, if one speaks, the other speaks louder

the staircases no longer move there is no air to hold them

children wear bubblehead charms, they look like fish gasping

there is no voice to ask riddles, the birds sleep where they choose

there is no place for boggarts to hide, they befriend peeves, they scare the trees

not under the beech tree, nothing sits there

not even shapeshifters

two lions like to laze, push affection into slow glances

nothing hurried about dean’s insistent mouth

nothing thankless, when they gasp in closed spaces, in each other

it is sacred

it is brief

lavender has no words for their magnetism

when seamus leans into dean’s orbit, it is naïve, it is showing your neck

they never roar

 *                 *

(they never roar)


	3. all the children like to wear white, so they match the sky

the lions burn their yellows and reds,

turn their rubies to rust

only birds have blue wings, they stutter and bristle easily 

and cloak themselves in that dead fruit smell 

sitting on sturdy branches that never sway, never move 

there is no air for birds, they die first 

Flitwick carries the dead fruit smell, walls hiss when he moves past

soon they bend

soon they disappear under his small feet

soon he joins the lake permanently 

hands pull him under, blooms blooms of color overtake him

the sky is white, whiter than a bird’s coat, whiter than a bird’s unmoving eyes 

(there is only humming)

 no more songs

there is no uproar in the Castle

in his room, he waves his hands

and weaves his songs, and they all nod

they all nod

when he twitches his black dead hand they all nod

when his eyes twinkle no longer they all nod

when flitwick is pulled under they look away

when there are no birds they look away

when the badgers and lions roar they look away

when the snakes lay dormant they look away

pomona sprout is one of them

there are no flowers to kill

there are no birds to stifle

she speaks of the white sky the children think of the Dark

of his black hand

of his black pupil

of his black lover

all these songs the Headmaster sings

he sings for the heads alone

all the children lay with the serpents in their den

a white doe presides over them

a puppet presides over them

a puppeteer sits in his office, popping lemon drops

the trees are bleeding pomona tells him, with an absent look

soon they will choke my plants severus says, with a dour look

the merpeople always sing minerva says with brittle voice

displeasure coats her tongue her mouth her teeth

the black lake is checkered with color

the sky is only white

one cannot tell a lion from a badger there is no yellow there is no gold

everything bleeds He says

red, minerva tries to remember

she has not seen red on the backs of her lions,

or filling her pride

there is no red no rubies only rust only the humming

from under the glass lake

humming so loud it will shatter

it will displease those checkered things

that pollute the black lake

that stifle the giant squid

that like to tickle the children

the trees do not bleed, minerva says to pomona

i have seen different people sit under them, different faces every night

they smile at you as you pass

they change before your eyes

the trees do not bleed minerva says to Dumbledore

they are already dead

there is no blood 

(only humming)


End file.
